


The Perfect Libation

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands Advent Calendar Challenge, Ineffable Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, a slightly suggestive comment, cocoa, just sweet all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Crowley walks in on his husband enjoying a holiday drink that Aziraphale considers 'the greatest marvel of the modern age'.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68
Collections: Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020





	The Perfect Libation

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Ineffable Husbands Advent Challenge 2020 prompt 'Christmas drinks'. It was supposed to be up on the 18th. I apologize for its lateness <3

“Now, now. We fill this up with some nice hot milk,” Aziraphale dictates to himself as he prepares his treat, “and let the fun begin.”

“Are you having another one?” Crowley asks, strolling by Aziraphale's desk, narrowing his eyelids at the contents of his mug.

“I am,” Aziraphale responds stiffly. “You don’t get to judge.”

“’m not judgin'. Only this is your seventh one today.”

“It’s my _fifth,_ my dear. Don't make me sound like a glutton.”

“I would never do that." Crowley pulls up a chair and joins him. He watches Aziraphale peer into his mug as if the object inside were performing something much more riveting, like _Hamlet_. "You know, I think you like watching them more than you like drinking them.”

“Hmph. After 6000 years, I thought you knew me better than that." Aziraphale picks up a spoon and starts to stir. "But they are entertaining."

"They seem to have caused quite the kerfuffle. I see them everywhere - in the shops, online. They're all over social media. I would have to say it's a testament to how incredibly _bored_ the humans are, being on lockdown and all."

"Crowley, Crowley, Crowley," Aziraphale tsks. "We’ve been around to see humanity’s greatest achievements, genius innovations come to fruition - the automobile, the Polio vaccine, the aeroplane. But this ..." Aziraphale gestures to his mug with the pride of a mum showing off their child's first artistic endeavor "... may just be the greatest marvel of the modern age.”

"Really?" Crowley crosses his arms over his chest and reclines haphazardly in his chair, tilting back till it's balancing on a single leg. “The hot chocolate bomb is the greatest marvel of the modern age?”

“Absolutely. Leave it to humans to come up with such a compact and delightful treat!"

"Seeing as chimpanzees haven't developed a taste for cocoa, it would be up to the humans to shoulder the burden, wouldn't it?"

"Now you're making fun." 

“The humans invented mulled wine, too. Remember?" Crowley points out with a grimace in silent acknowledgment of how many glasses of the stuff he's had to stomach over the centuries. "They heat it up, then they overload it with fruit and spices. Ghastly, it is! Simply ghastly!”

“Yes, well, they can’t all be winners, can they?" Aziraphale says, fanning away the steam. "The point is they tried.”

Crowley huffs. "That's sweet of you, innit?"

"What do you mean?"

"The humans mess up, and you're all _Awww! How cute! They tried!_ But when _I_ give something my all and muck up, it's _'Crowley! That's disgusting! Why does it smell like that!? Why does it have skin on it?' Y_ ada-yada-yada. _"_

"If you're referring to the apple cider incident of yesterday, your concoction had _seeds_ in it! Stems! And _fur_! How on earth do you get fur in apple cider?"

"It happens when you have to wrestle some vile beastie to get the apples, don't it?" 

"Not when you buy them from the market!"

"Not true!" Crowley defends, waggling a finger in Aziraphale's direction. "There are vicious old biddies at the market, and they love apples! They'll just as soon run you down for the last bag of Braeburns as look at you!"

Aziraphale stares, completely dumbfounded that his husband actually took those words in particular and strung them together in a single sentence. "Are you certain you don't want one?" he asks, calmly changing the subject. 

"Ngk ... uh ..." Crowley's eyes bounce from the cooling mug of cocoa in front of Aziraphale to the delicately decorated orbs piled high on a platter in the center of the table. With their edible pearls, and dusting of fine, silver glitter, they look more like wedding favors than food. After what happened at their own wedding, Crowley isn't making _that_ mistake again. "No, thank you, angel. I'm not that big a fan of _sweet_."

"You're just in luck then. These ..." Aziraphale gestures to a second platter of bombs, a much deeper color than the first "... are dark chocolate. They're quite a bit on the bitter side. That should suit you fine."

Crowley shakes his head, dismissing Aziraphale's offer. "I guess I just don't understand the appeal. You can throw together a cuppa cocoa quick and easy, can't you? Chocolate, milk, marshmallows - that's all it is. This seems like making a mountain out of a molehill to me."

"Oh, but it's terribly convenient! Everything you need for the perfect mug of cocoa, all rolled together in one elegantly decorated, plump package."

Crowley smirks, sitting upright with renewed interest. "Well, then. I guess I'll give it a go. I do enjoy plump packages, after all."

Aziraphale fixes Crowley with a side-long, suggestive stare as he drops a dark chocolate sphere into an empty mug and pours in hot milk. "Do you?" 

"Of course." Crowley moves closer, pinches his husband on the bum where it hangs over his seat. Then he watches his snack unfurl: the glitter and the pearls drifting away, dissolving in a blink without leaving a trace behind, the dark chocolate succumbing to the heat of the milk and melting, releasing its cache of marshmallows, sending them bobbing to the surface. It doesn't even need a stir really. It all melds, comes together on its own.

Terribly convenient, like Aziraphale said.

"There you are, my dear," the angel says, sliding the mug Crowley's way. "Get started before it gets cold."

Crowley blows carefully across the top, then lifts the mug to his lips the same time Aziraphale does his own and takes a sip.

“Mmm." Aziraphale hums, eyelids fluttering shut, a smile crossing his face. _"Heavenly."_

Crowley smacks his lips. "They are tasty, aren't they?" 

"Mm-hmm."

"Right." Crowley looks into his drink, searching past the marshmallows for an essential ingredient - one neither of them mentioned, but whose smell lingers heavily in the air. "It may be missing one thing. To make it a little more jolly?”

Aziraphale grins. “Some holiday spirit?”

“Perhaps.”

Aziraphale reaches down beside him without opening an eye and lifts an amber bottle of Baileys onto the table. "Ho-ho-ho."


End file.
